


everything i want

by AlainaCorrigan, remembermyfic



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Blow Jobs, F/M, Lingerie, Rule 63, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 20:33:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12373509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlainaCorrigan/pseuds/AlainaCorrigan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/remembermyfic/pseuds/remembermyfic
Summary: still on, sweetheart?Ofc,she texts back, almost without thinking. As if she’d cop out now, and with Leon of all people, who has never made her feel anything other than attractive.Oh.Huh.It’s a confidence she forgets about. His faith in her, the way he looks at her, the way he always makes her feel like she could take on the world. Lingerie is nothing.





	everything i want

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eberbae (dustyjournal)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustyjournal/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [eberbae (dustyjournal)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustyjournal/pseuds/eberbae). Log in to view. 



> SO. The lovely and talented Miss Eberbae asked for an extension of her fic and LOOK WHAT WERE WE SUPPOSED TO DO. Well, RMF. Who drafted Alaina along for the ride. 
> 
> IT'S BEEN FUN TO WRITE WITH YOU. 
> 
> Eberbae, darling. Chin up. It's been rough, but we love you. 
> 
> WARNING: if you got here by googling yourself or someone you know TURN BACK GRASSHOPPER. This is very not where you want to be.

“Hey.”

Leon looks up at her, eyebrow raised. It’s the middle of practice, a situation where they’re both generally extremely focused. It’s not weird of her to poke for his attention, but it’s like he can tell she doesn’t want to talk work this time. 

“Come over later.” 

He straightens, aware in a way that makes her stomach warm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She knows her face is flushing. She smacks his shin pads to keep from fidgeting. 

“Reason?” 

“Do I need one?” 

He watches her for a beat, then two. “No.” 

He knows there is a reason though. She’s known him long enough, been hooking up with him long enough, to know the calculation in his face. But she also knows nothing on her face is going to give away what she has in the unopened package on her counter. 

“You’ll tell me when?” 

Connor tries not to swallow, to make it obvious that it means something. “Yeah. I’ll text you.” 

It had been her initial goal to get the invitation out of the way and focus on practice. Having the conversation does exactly the opposite. It’s there in the back of her head, distracting her. She goes through the motions of practice, but her head isn’t in it. It’s still not there, not focused, when they go into the locker room for press, nor when she showers. She doesn’t feel fully focused until she’s back home staring at the package that started this. 

It’s not a surprise like his had been, and it’s part of what has her nerves on edge. Lingerie isn’t generally her style; it puts her on display in ways she doesn’t feel are normal. On the ice, her power is on display in every push of her legs, the quirk of her wrists that helps her deke around another player. Here, it’s aesthetic, and aesthetic is not something she’s necessarily as comfortable with. 

Leon, she knows, doesn’t have that issue. What he sees, she’s not totally sure - is fairly confident she’ll never be sure - but it’s there. This reverence for her, for Connor not McJesus, is a lot to think about. So much, that she has to put the package down again. She’ll start with a shower. 

She takes her time in the shower. It’s not difficult. Darla had gifted her half the Lush store when she’d discovered Connor and Leon were sleeping together. It’s been too daunting for Connor to look at, if she’s honest - Dylan had done all of the beauty stuff when they were on the Otters - but she has time now. Or, well. She wants to take her time now. 

She reads every container and bottle thoroughly. So thoroughly, in fact, that when her phone chimes a text message, it makes her jump. It’s Leon, of course, short and quick about how he’s excited and  _ still on, sweetheart? _

_ Ofc _ , she texts back, almost without thinking. As if she’d cop out now, and with Leon of all people, who has never made her feel anything other than attractive. 

Oh.

Huh. 

It’s a confidence she forgets about. His faith in her, the way he looks at her, the way he always makes her feel like she could take on the world. Lingerie is nothing. 

She doesn’t speed through her shower, but she doesn’t concern herself with the body products all that much either. Leon is into  _ her _ and it’s enough right now that she doesn’t feel like she needs to smell different, or be different. She needs to be Connor, the one he thought was absolutely stunning in a corset and panties. 

The one he will find beautiful even if she doesn’t wear the lingerie she’s chosen this time. 

But Connor is nothing if not determined. She’s gotten herself into it and she will go through with it. It brings images to her mind anyway, the way the fabric falls around her hips, the way it would look floating around her as she rides him. It’s usually his show, him calling the shots. But there’s something settled within her and she’s going to be more in charge this time, more vocal instead of passive. The thought propels her into action, into finally opening the package and putting on the outfit. She decides against makeup, realizing that it would take too much time and probably not last long anyway. Leon and her tend to get, very into each other and very hot.  

_ Ready,  _ she sends.  _ Use your key. _

It takes him twenty minutes, which is fairly normal she figures. At the first scrape of the key in the lock, Connor stands and takes a deep breath, smoothes down her lingerie. Leon’s head is down, tugging the key from the lock when he pushes open the door. 

“Connor! Where-” He stops dead in his tracks when he finally looks up and sees her, takes her in from the hair she’s left spread over her shoulders, down the lace that covers her breasts and the sheer fabric of the rest of her outfit. “Oh.”

“Hi.” 

It doesn’t sound like her, breathless and turned on. Sure, she’s been thinking about it, planned for it even, but it crumbles before her as he looks at her, eyes hot. 

“Hi.” There’s a beat. “Is this for me?” 

The only phrase Connor can find to describe the way Leon moves toward her is  _ stalk _ . His steps are measured, even, but sure and confident. His hands feel so big when he finally gets them on her hips, and despite her resolution that this is her show, her choice, she gives into the way he steers her into the wall.

It’s not her fault this demanding, dominating presence makes her shiver.

“We’re leaving this,” he says, running his hands over the sheer tulle that covers her hips, her stomach. “But these.” He tugs down her panties and tosses them aside, slides his hands back up her legs. She spreads them on instinct, gives him space to slide his fingers up, up. 

He hums when he slips his hand between her thighs . “Already wet for me?”

Connor’s head drops back against the wall, her hands coming up to wrap around his forearm, his bicep. “Leon.” 

His forearm bunches beneath her hand as he strokes her, slides a finger inside and groans. It’s only then that he kisses her, takes her mouth with that fierce arousal that has so characterised their relationship. He devours her, makes her feel small and like he could stay here forever; screw hockey and the Oilers and the Stanley Cup, this is all that matters. Connor gasps into his mouth when he adds a second finger, when he slides them in just right and rubs perfectly. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs, sliding his mouth to her cheek, until he can speak softly into her ear. “This is what you’ve been thinking about, hm? Buying something so pretty for me.”

She can’t reply, not that she has to.

“All through practice, you were so distracted. Were you thinking about this, Connor? About me-”

He cuts himself off and she gasps when he presses his arm across her lower stomach, pins her right there against the wall. He kicks her legs open a little further and presses his teeth lightly to the scar on her collarbone. He has a thing about it, she knows, like he can kiss it better, even long after it’s healed; like he has to put his own mark on her where hockey has already taken its pound of flesh. Connor’s body tries to arch into it, her brain short circuiting as it pushes her clit into the heel of his hand. 

“There you go,” he murmurs, takes her mouth again in the same dominating kiss. “You’re so close, aren’t you.”

She is. She really is, and between the press of his palm on her clit and the fingers that are working wonders inside her, Connor comes, biting at his shoulder through his t-shirt. She lets her forehead rest there as he strokes her through it, soft now, coaxing. Eventually she raises her head, presses her mouth to his cheek. 

“It’s supposed to be my show,” she murmurs, even as she kind of has to brace herself against his denser frame to keep her legs beneath her. He chuckles a little, takes a moment to kiss her, slowly this time, languid.

“Well then that was the opening act. Bedroom for the main event?” 

Connor takes his wrist in her hand, slides it out from between her thighs. “In a minute.” 

She remembers what Leon looked like, licking her slick off his fingers, how it had seemed to turn him on all the more. She starts with little kitten licks on his fingers, testing, tasting, before sliding one finger into her mouth. His gasp is worth it, eyes hot when she looks up at him through her lashes. 

“Connor,” he says, voice low. It’s almost a warning that Connor easily ignores. She takes the second finger into her mouth instead, slides her tongue around his knuckles. Her eyes flutter closed without her permission. The sound Leon releases is borderline pornographic and Connor finds herself echoing it. 

“Minx,” he growls, and pulls his hand from her mouth. He gets his hands on her thighs and hoists her up, spreading her legs around his hips. 

“Leon,” Connor gasps. “No, I-”

“I’ve got you,” he replies, wraps his arm around her hips tight. He slides the other into her hair to angle her face down, kissing her again and again and again until she’s melting against him. 

He carries her to her room, against all the protesting noises he kisses from her mouth. He settles with her on his lap, sitting on the edge of her bed, and holds her still until he can bite a mark just above her breast. 

Connor lets him for a minute or two, until she knows the mark will be there for days. Then she slithers off his lap, until she’s on her knees between his legs. It’s her turn to take this back. She slides her hands up his legs, trails them along his jeans because somehow, he’s still completely dressed. 

“These need to go,” she says as she unbuttons them and starts tugging. Leon obediently lifts his hips so she can tug down his jeans and boxers and then makes quick work of his shirt. Connor sits back on her heels, staring because how does she not stare at Leon? He catches her eye and smirks.

“See something you like?”

Connor rolls her eyes at him because what a stupid question. “I think you know the answer to that,” she says, voice deep with want. She throws his pants to some corner of the room and gets herself situated between his legs. She gets her hand on him first, wrapping her hand around his cock to jack it a few times. There’s something daunting about this, when she knows it’s not her forte, but she wants to do it. Knowing what it does to Leon sends a thrilling shiver down her spine, giving her the confidence to lean in and tongue around the head of his cock. 

She starts slow with those kitten licks, warming herself up and working her way up to wrapping her lips around him, sucking lightly. It draws a moan out of Leon and Connor bobs her head in response, focused on his reactions. She moves her hand in time with her mouth, making sure the two meet so she gets every inch of him. She feels his thigh tense under her other hand, the muscles straining to keep him from bucking his hips up. She moans around him and hears the string of curses he lets out. So she looks up at him through her lashes when she pulls back and meets his eyes, sees the want in them.

“Jesus Connor,” Leon breathes out. He twists one of his hands in her hair, cradling her head. She keeps her eyes locked on him as she sinks down again, tries to take as much of him as she can into her mouth, and swirls her tongue around as well. Leon moans loudly and tugs her back and off his cock, brings her up to his level and kisses her demandingly. “Condom. Now.” 

There’s no questioning it and Connor knows it. This is still her show, evident in how Leon lets her move for the bedside table, open the condom to roll it on.

“One day,” she says, as she rolls the condom down his cock. “I’m going to be able to do this with my mouth.” 

Leon groans and tugs at her hair, tumbles them both back to the bed. Connor goes easily, straddles his hips and presses against him as much as she can. The babydoll gets in the way, she can’t quite feel the heat of his skin against her, but it’ll do. Especially when he slides his hands up her legs again, kneads at her ass for a moment to rock her down against his cock. 

It’s so close to what she wants and she sighs with it, lifts up to do it all over again one more time. She sits up then and reaches between them, lines his cock up and slowly, so slowly, takes him inside. Leon’s hands are hard on her hips, gripping them like he wants to thrust his hips up, get inside her as fast as possible. He’s nothing if not patient with her though, head tipped back into the comforter and neck arched in a way that makes Connor want to  _ bite _ . 

She digs her nails into his chest instead, just a little. It’s enough for him to release one of her hips, wrapping his fingers around her wrist instead - half a warning, half a reminder. 

“Fuck, Connor,” he gasps. Connor moans back, sighs at the stretch, the glorious wonderful feel of how he fills her up. 

“Yeah,” she says nonsensically. “Leon-”

That does it. He grips both her hips again and holds her still, uses the leverage of where his feet are still planted on the floor to press up into her. Connor gasps, and presses against his chest, tries to match the hard, fast rhythm he sets. 

It’s everything she’d imagined when she first picked this outfit. The fabric is sheer enough that she can see the way his hips move against her, the slide of his cock inside her body, but opaque enough that half of her brain is imagining a dark club, a skirt maybe, the kind she never wears out with the team, not wanting to draw attention to her femininity. But maybe like this, maybe in Germany if she visits, where maybe they have a little more privacy and-

“Connor.” 

Her eyes fly open, meet his where they’re watching her, watching the way her hips roll into his, the press of him between her thighs. Connor opens her mouth, why, she isn’t quite sure, but what comes out is: “I want this all the time.” 

He groans, loud and long, fingers pressing bruising indents into her hips. She slides her palms up his chest until she’s all but flat against him. She rolls her hips as best she can while he pushes up into her, the change in angle everything she needs. 

“You’re hot, Leon,” she says breathlessly, fisting her hands into the comforter on either side of his head. “Always so hot. So big, so strong, so-”

He growls, bites at her shoulder. “You’re a menace.” 

She kisses his cheek, his shoulder, wherever her mouth can reach without lifting her head. “So good inside me. So good with your hands.” 

She reaches for said hands, pulls them from her body so she can thread their fingers together, pin them up by his head. He growls, but seems to let her, doesn’t flip them to take control back. She gasps on a particularly hard thrust, and it’s enough for Leon to get his hand out from her grip, slide it between her thighs to press hard against her clit. 

Connor bites the bedspread so she doesn’t scream, the cry muffled into the cotton. Her hand squeezes his, a white-knuckled grip that isn’t good for either of them, but not something she can help. 

“Fuck, Connor,” she just barely hears him say before he gets his hands on her ass, thrusts up into her one more time, and follows her over the edge. 

His hands are stroking her back when they both get their breathing to settle, smooth consistent strokes that leave her boneless. Well, that and two solid orgasms. She sighs, pleased and lifts herself so, so slowly off his cock. She doesn’t climb off him, however, just settles right back down and buries her head in his neck. 

Finally, Leon sighs and starts tugging at her babydoll. “It’s beautiful, but it needs to come off.” 

They make quick work of it together. She handles the hooks keeping the bodice up and lets him tug it off, over her head. Her hair cascades down and Leon gathers it in his big hands, sighs when it’s in a ponytail. “Elastic?” 

Connor feels her stomach turn over, but reaches for the pile she keeps on the bedside table. Leon kisses her sternum, and it helps sooth the sudden bout of nerves as she sits up, wraps the elastic around her hair. “Better?” 

“Not better,” he says, and sounds scolding. “You’re always beautiful, Connor.” 

She blushes.

“You’re comfortable like this,” he murmurs, tugs on her ponytail because he knows it makes her make a face. “I love when you take risks and put yourself out there. I love when you want to put yourself on display for me.” He strokes her flank, gentle but admiring. She shivers, her whole body trembling. This feels like the confession she’s been avoiding, the one she knows is true, but can’t seem to ever say. She holds her breath when he opens his mouth.

“Come to Germany,” he says. “Cologne. This summer. For a while.” 

Connor goes cold, then flushes hot, her mind playing back the image in a darkened club, tucked away in the corner where they can pretend they aren’t famous, aren’t noticeable. Where they can be anonymous and not the young cornerstones of a franchise with the hopes and Cup dreams of half a province, and maybe part of a nation, on their shoulders. 

“Shit, Connor,” she hears him mumble right before he takes her mouth. He must know, must understand that she has a fantasy at play now, something she wants, and she shakes with it. 

“Whatever you want,” he murmurs. “Whatever you want, Connor-”

So she lets herself imagine it, closes her eyes and leans into the kiss thinking about what it’ll be like to find a little place, maybe see the mountains, kiss him on the street without having to worry about paparazzi or papers or getting their picture splashed across NHL.com. Not have to deal with questions on whether or not it’s going to affect their game, their scoring, their chance at the Cup. “Yeah. I have some ideas.” 

Leon laughs and flips them over, kisses her collarbone, her sternum, the upper curve of her breast. “Let me give you a few more.”

**Author's Note:**

> News and notes!
> 
> [AlainaCorrigan](fullstrengthhearts.tumblr.com) | [remembermyfic ](remembermyfic.tumblr.com) | [ lingerie inspiration ](https://www.weddinginclude.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Romantic-Wedding-Night-Lingerie.jpg)


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